


Status: Human

by clarkegriffvn



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Humans vs. Zombies, M/M, very intense lots of action
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-08-08
Updated: 2015-08-08
Packaged: 2018-04-13 14:14:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,858
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4525110
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/clarkegriffvn/pseuds/clarkegriffvn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <b>Ark University HUMANS vs ZOMBIES 2015:</b>
</p><p> </p><p>"We're not going to make it!" Miller yells at Monty's side, the blood-red tails of his armband flailing behind him.</p><p>Monty grits his teeth and speeds up, pulling just ahead until Miller finds the energy to match him. The other boy's holsters clatter against his black tactical vest.</p><p>"I'm not giving up without a fight," Monty spits back, fingers iron wrapped around his gun.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Status: Human

**Author's Note:**

> [FIC PLAYLIST](https://soundcloud.com/clarkegriffvn/sets/hvz-love-and-war) (listen to enhance reading experience / or when destroying your enemies)

**Monty Green | Day Four | 9:02PM | Status: Human**

Monty's heart rips at his chest, wild and pounding. His fingers are iron wrapped around his gun, cramping from the strain. He’s running and running, head twisting back every ten flying steps, waiting for them to come into sight.

And come they do, stomping around the street corner, hooting and hollering. Their war cries are feral, and Monty represses the urge to duck into the nearest building and hide; suicide. He looks back again to get an estimate on their numbers and his blood runs cold. There has to be more than twenty of them, holy shit. They're quick as shadows too, feet pounding the pavement in unison and multicolored headbands on proud display. Their leader shouts a command over his subordinates' jeering, sharp and direct. They rearrange into a V-shape at his word.

"We're not going to make it!" Miller yells at Monty's side, the blood-red tails of his armband flailing behind him.

Monty grits his teeth and speeds up, pulling just ahead until Miller finds the energy to match him. The other boy's gun holsters clatter against his black tactical vest.

"I'm not giving up without a fight," Monty spits back. "We can cut through Biology One. It'll take longer to reach the dorms, but we'll split their numbers when they go around to cut us off."

“Let’s put up a stand, pick some off beforehand,” Miller says, adding to the plan. “With the doors at our backs we won’t need to cover each other this time.”

“Good idea,” Monty says with a grin.

His mind fondly replays the memory from two days ago. They took down a horde in the middle of campus, back to back and working together flawlessly. Even though it was close, they pulled through in the end. That was the moment that he and Miller really decided to team up. Their bond is strong for only having known each other four days, but then again it was forged on the frontlines, in the heat of battle. It’s fight together or die apart at this point, and Monty knows which one he would prefer.

They duck their heads as Biology One comes into sight. Monty flies up the stairs, one, two, three steps at a time. They twist around, slamming their backs in unison on the front doors of the building, guns up in both hands.

The horde, hot on their heels, reaches the bottom of the trapezoid of steps. They slow, surrounding Monty and Miller at all angles. A tense moment passes as none of them dare take the first step. Monty doesn’t dare waste ammo; at this range, accuracy requires time that they don't have.

“Charge!” shouts their leader, bounding up the center stairs.

Monty lines up one shot after the next, aiming to kill, aiming to make them back off, aiming, firing, reloading. It’s an endless cycle as their numbers drop, and the leader begins to look more and more frustrated. He picks his way through the fallen bodies of his comrades, giving orders. But every time Monty tries to take him out, he'll dive or duck or roll with near-superhuman agility. The only thing holding him back from sprinting up and taking them out right now is his value to the group. If he was dead, unity would crumble and Miller and Monty would be able to escape.

But then, just as things are starting to look up, Miller gets a jam. He tosses aside the faulty weapon, holding his remaining gun with both hands to steady his aim. Soon after that, their ammo begins to deplete, and they have to be more conservative with each shot. The horde starts to gain ground, now perilously close to ending their fight.

Monty looks to Miller, trying to catch his attention. His eyebrows are scrunched together in focus and his lips are pinched, raised arms bringing his black tee under his vest up the show off a sharp hipbone. Monty lets himself be distracted for a single second, then tears his eyes away and fires at the closest four, dropping one.

“Alright, fall back on three,” Monty orders aloud, shooting off a few more risky rounds to make the retreat easier. “One, tw--”

“I’m not going with you, Monty,” Miller interrupts calmly.

Monty’s head twists to looks at him incredulously, but then one of them is lurching toward him. He’s forced to fire three rapid shots, one of which kills it.

“Why the fuck not?” he manages to answer, unable to take his eyes from the horde and analyze Miller’s expression. They’re excited from overhearing the news that Miller might make a martyr of himself.

“We can’t both make it,” Miller answers. He pauses as the click of his empty gun sounds instead of a shot, and Monty swings his left gun over to cover him. Miller finishes reloading before adding, “I can give you a head start, hold them off.”

"You're crazy, that’s suicide!" Monty criticises, keeping an eye on one of them that’s decided to creep up from flat against the building far to their left. “Please, just come.”

“We can’t outrun them and you know it,” Miller answers with a shake of his head. “I’m a soldier; I’m expendable. You can’t die, Monty. This is the only way.”

“Nate, you’re not just another soldier! We need you,” Monty shouts back, taking out one creeping up along the wall in two rapid shots of his gun.

“No, they need you,” Miller answers without hesitation. “You’re the one that’s going to end this war, Monty. It has to be you.”

Monty feels like screaming. He’s had almost complete control over everything the last four days; until now. His adrenaline pushes at his skin, wanting to grab Miller by the hand and drag his stubborn ass through the door. But Monty knows that’s impossible; Miller’s already made his choice. He's accepted his fate, and Monty can see it in his eyes.

“Take my gun,” he says solemnly at last, slipping one of his weapons into Miller’s holster. He mirrors his partner by holding both hands to his remaining weapon, taking a step forward to make the horde flinch back. “I still have one, I’ll be fine.” Monty tries not to let his voice waver as he opens the door behind him. “You’re a better shot anyways.”

Miller looks like he wants to give it back, but his hands are full covering Monty’s unwilling solo retreat. Their leader still hasn’t gone down and is shouting taunts at Monty for 'running away like a coward.' Monty pauses halfway through the door to fire some well-aimed shots in that direction, causing the leader to tuck and roll painfully on the concrete.

“Just get out of here already!” Miller commands. “Run!”

“Promise me you’ll follow,” Monty says desperately, though he knows the answer.

“I can’t,” Miller answers, voice more emotional than Monty has heard in the past four turbulent days. “Promise me you won’t do anything stupid.”

“I can’t,” Monty echoes with a bitter smile. “Kick some ass for me.”

“Gladly,” is all Miller says, whipping out Monty’s gifted gun and firing shot after shot.

Monty grins again as the horde backs off a step from sheer terror. Then he turns away, gritting his teeth and tensing his calves. His hand slips off the door and brushes the ground as he swings it up, springing from a sprinter’s crouch. Miller’s giving his life for this head start, and Monty’s damn well going to make it count.

* * *

**Nathan Miller | Day Four | 9:17PM | Status: Human**

Miller’s halved their numbers, but the best of them still prowl, never still long enough for him to land a hit. His eyes flick to the mass of bodies on the ground, trying to remember how long it would be until they begin to rise again.

_Please, let this give Monty enough time. Let him live._

He runs out of ammo in his own gun and has to drop it; he can't reload without cover this close in. One on the right laughs as he curses and he whips Monty's gun around, landing a headshot. His eyes flick forward, scanning their numbers. Two closing in from the middle stairs, three on his left and the leader has drifted over to his right. Miller stands his ground, knuckles white, finger hovering on the trigger. Everything is silent.

Then, the dead begin to rise again. The leader helps one up to standing and Miller's heart skips a beat. Soon he'll be surrounded, with only 11 shots to his name. He presses his back more tightly against the doors and flexes his raised arms.

With the numbers for confidence, all the leader has to do is point at him, and they charge.

* * *

**Monty Green | Day Four | 9:17PM | Status: Human**

The slap of Monty's running shoes on the tile announces his passage obnoxiously, and he can feel adrenaline rush up in his chest. The fluorescent hallway lights are dimmed but not off, even though he hasn’t seen another soul since his entry. His lungs have begun to burn now, and Monty idly wonders if he can keep up this pace all the way to the dorms. He lets his mind wander as he runs, hoping that distracting himself from the strain will help.

Unfortunately all it does is drag up memories of Miller’s sacrifice. _Damn that boy, and damn his idiot, reckless, brave, selfless actions._

Dwelling on it, Monty beats himself up for not putting up more of a fight. But Miller was making that stupid, cute stubborn face, and there was nothing he could do. He hated feeling out of control.

When Monty looks around again, he’s stunned to realize that he doesn’t know where he is. He swears and checks the walls for a building map, which are usually by each stairwell. He finds one, and is quickly thereafter slamming his fist against the wall. He took a wrong turn early on and didn’t notice. Now he has to backtrack, and try to make up for a shitton of lost time that he couldn’t afford.

“Stupid,” he mutters to himself, flicking the hair out of his face as he starts to run again. He tries to double his pace, but exhaustion is seeping into his bones.

_This is not how everything was supposed to go._

* * *

**Nathan Miller | Day Four | 9:18PM | Status: Human**

They charge in small groups, ducking and weaving up the stairs. Miller shoots one down before he has to drop to the ground to avoid a sweeping arm that hits only the air above him. He flips onto his back, pointing his gun up and shooting the enemy down. He rolls to avoid the falling body, and then tucks his legs in to stop a grab at his foot. Rising to his knees, he’s run out of room, backed against the doors. He uses up two more shots to take out the one that grabbed for his leg, teeth gritting in concentration. Three more approach in its place, and Miller fires, dropping one and causing the other two to back off.

Suddenly the leader calls the rest of them back, walking up the centre with a confident, lop-sided grin. Miller’s eyes narrow and he stands, pulling the trigger.

_Chick._

Miller’s face drains of colour as he understands the leader’s grin. He’s out of ammo.

“Now, we can do this the hard way or the--”

Miller throws his gun at the leader’s hands, sprinting down the middle of the steps, ducking right under the leader’s arms. The horde yells, swivelling and chasing after him. Maybe he can draw them all away from Monty, maybe--

A hand planted firmly on Miller’s back throws him off balance and he stumbles forward, catching himself on his knees. The leader caught up to him easily, the bastard.

Monty's gun falls, clattering on the concrete. Miller feels a weight fall from his shoulders. It's done. He did everything he could. Monty has a chance at living.

Bellamy Blake walks around to Miller’s front, grinning at his victory. The ex-human and current zombie leader reaches out a hand to his friend. Miller takes it and rises, already untying his armband with a grimace.

"Sorry man, that's the game," Bellamy says. "Welcome to the team!"

"Thanks," Miller answers dryly. Red headband now in place, he surveys the assortment of rising students. Nerf darts litter the ground, and Miller grins.

“Yeah, you put up a good fight,” Bellamy agrees. “I thought Clarke was crazy for wanting to focus so many of our numbers on catching you two, but I get it now. I haven’t seen anyone play as well as you and Monty since… well, Octavia and I.”

Miller laughs, fond memories of last year’s campus Humans vs Zombies game replaying. He had signed up as a zombie, but the human team was crazy strong that year. Bellamy and Octavia ruled it with an iron fist, and stopped zombie numbers from ever hitting 200, securing their success. Once Miller knew the game was going in their favour no matter what, he played just for fun, racking up tags.

"Thanks Bellamy,” Miller answers, then pauses. “So what do you say we celebrate, go grab something to eat?"

There’s a forced casualness in his tone, and Bellamy picks up on it. His eyebrows rise as Miller’s hopes at stalling deflate.

"Good try Miller, we're still going after him," Bellamy answers. "ID card? I'll log you in the database. You start tomorrow morning."

"Yeah, yeah," Miller says, obliging.

Bellamy takes his card and types the number into his phone, logging Miller’s status change. When he looks back up, there’s devilish glint in his eye. Miller reaches out to grab his card back, but Bellamy pulls it out of his reach.

"Hey, if I catch him will you finally ask him out?"

Miller laughs. Usually Bellamy's not-so-subtle teasing would make him clam up, but not today. He crosses his arms over his chest challengingly.

“You’re not going to catch him. He’s too good and you know it.”

“We’ll see about that,” Bellamy answers, turning away.

Miller watches the zombie team assemble, their stun time after being shot wearing off one by one. Some still lie on the ground chatting and laughing, watching the last of the time pass on their phones. Though he's disappointed for not lasting longer, Miller’s competitive mind is already racing with ideas to play the best game possible. He sees a young zombie girl with intense braids showing off a column of names on her arm; a kill list. The sight makes him grin before he turns and walks back up the steps, gathering up the mess of nerf guns and darts.

_Good luck, Monty._

* * *

**Ark University HUMANS vs ZOMBIES 2015**

**What is it?**

  * HvZ is a yearly campus survival game where students on team Humans must evade being tagged by students on team Zombies. Human players must remain vigilant and stun zombies with socks and nerf guns to escape being turned. The game takes place during school, on grounds, and lasts two weeks. Class is safe, but in between… you’re fair game. Will you travel through the halls back-to-back, upholding the legacy of humankind? Or will you become a part of the growing zombie horde aiming to bring it down?




**Human Gameplay:**

  * Humans win by surviving till the end of the week.

  * Humans may stun a Zombie for 15 minutes by hitting them with nerf darts or socks.

  * When tagged by a Zombie, a Human is required to distribute their ID card. One hour from being tagged, a Human becomes a member of the Zombie team and can begin participating again.




**Zombie Gameplay:**

  * Zombies win by turning all the humans before the end of the week.

  * A tag is a firm touch to any part of a Human. After tagging, the Zombie must collect their ID card. Tags must be reported within 12 hours. A bag or coat the Human is wearing counts as Human.

  * When shot with a dart blaster or hit with a sock, a Zombie is stunned for 15 minutes. A stunned Zombie may not interact with the game. This includes shielding other Zombies from bullets or continuing to run toward a human. A stunned Zombie wears their bandanna around their neck for the duration of their stun.




**Rules:**

  * Don't be an asshole.
  * No realistic looking nerf weaponry. Must be a single shot blaster, no automatics, and no shields.

  * Zombies wear a headband around their head, which is to be clearly distinguishable.

  * Humans wear an armband around their upper arm, which is to be clearly distinguishable.

  * Daily gameplay is from 7AM to 11PM.

  * Night missions run from 8PM to 11PM. Night missions are structured team vs team games.

  * Non-participants may not interfere with the game, including working as lookout or bringing supplies/ammo.

  * Every Human player must keep one index card with their unique identification number on them at all times.




**Tips:**

  * Make allies.

  * Run fast.

  * They’re coming.




For more information on rules, boundaries and safe zones, go to hvzark.com or contact Bellamy Blake

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading! I do plan to write more, if this chapter is well-received. You do want to know if Monty escapes, don't you? Or how these nerds are ever going to be able to admit their feelings while on opposite sides of a war!? If so, leave me your wonderful comments. Please kudos as well if you enjoyed! And if you are an amazing beautiful person, you might even consider recommending this fic to others who would enjoy! Gotta spread that Minty love ;P
> 
> Find me on tumblr @ [clarkegriffvn ](http://www.clarkegriffvn.tumblr.com):)


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